Plagued No More
"Tomorrow, you will be alone with them. I would urge you not to fall asleep. I don't expect they will harm you, but you can never trust the goblins fully. Besides, if they are discovered, it is best you have your wits about you."
"Why won't you be there?"
Draco knew he sounded rather pathetic, but he'd only felt comfortable playing his part in the efforts of the goblins because Potter's wife was with him, watching every move the goblins made.
Without her, he would be ignorant of everything occurring around him; something he was deeply unsettled by.
"I will be needed elsewhere," the woman answered, "but if you do find yourself in trouble, use your portkey. Harry has made it in a way that will get you out of most situations."
Once more, he found himself blind and deaf to all that was happening, but this time, Draco dared not fall asleep, despite how exhausted he felt.
He'd gotten no rest during the day whilst sitting with his grieving mother, and the elf returning his letter had left his mind elsewhere.
Dobby had not delivered it to Astoria, and there was a part of Draco that wished he had.
Did the girl even think about him anymore?
He didn't know, and if she did, he doubted it was because of those snatched moments they'd shared together atop the Astronomy Tower when all had been much simpler.
He shook his head of his thoughts of the girl.
He would likely never see her again, and if he did, she would likely already be married to another.
She was only a year younger than him, and a second daughter of a prominent family, but Lord Greengrass would quickly find her a match when she came of age, if the war was over.
For Draco, it had begun the summer before his fifth year at Hogwarts, and though then he had not been able to comprehend what it would become, he'd learned many harsh lessons along the way.
By no means was he innocent in the Dark Lord's ploys, but he had seen the error of his ways, had witnessed the pathetic sight of his father drinking himself to sleep each night, and the misery the man exacted upon others.
Draco had once been proud to be a Malfoy, and still was to an extent, but for now, his name still filled him with shame.
His father had taught him to bow to no other, to stand proudly before all, and yet, Lucius had done the opposite.
He had prostrated himself before a half-blood, begged and pleaded for all he had been granted by his master, but had still died to protect what little remained of his family.
Draco would never forget the shame, but he would never forget that Lucius had fought so that Draco and his mother could flee to safety.
He was pulled from his thoughts as the odd helmet he wore was removed, and he blinked at the sudden intrusion of the light from the rising sun in the distance.
"Is it done?" he asked.
The goblin before him shook his head but offered what he deemed to be a smile.
"No, Lord Malfoy, but we are close. Perhaps tomorrow, or another day or so."
Draco released a deep breath as he nodded.
"Tomorrow then," he replied before activating his portkey, pleased to be away from the goblins for the day before he would return once more.
Still, his lot in life could be much worse, and as he made his way towards the castle, he truly felt rather lucky that this would be his only part in the ensuing conflict.
He was indeed much more fortunate than many others, and it as not something he took for granted.
Still, he hoped Potter's wife would return tonight.
He did not wish to find himself alone with the goblins again.
The very thought was deeply unsettling, but all thoughts of the unpleasant creatures were forgotten as he entered the rooms he and his mother had been delegated.
The woman was pacing back and forth in front of the fireplace as she listened intently to the radio, and Draco frowned as an authoritative voice spoke.
"The operation was headed by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and assisted by other parties. I can announce that the Ministry of Magic has been taken back from the clutches of the Dark Lord, Voldemort. This afternoon, a meeting of the Wizengamot will be held to determine a new Minister, following a vote of no confidence in Corbin Yaxley. I urge all Lords and Ladies of magical Britain to attend."
Draco could only shake his head in disbelief as he realised this was why Potter's wife had been absent from watching over him.
He dared not breathe a sigh of relief prematurely, but the Ministry being taken from the Dark Lord was the best news he'd heard in a long time, and judging by the expression of his mother, she agreed.
"What does this mean?" he asked.
"Little, for now," she answered, "but it is a positive sign, Draco. It means that one way or the other, the war will likely soon be over."
"It will be," Draco murmured, remembering that the goblins believed they were close to locating his home, where the Dark Lord was currently residing.
If their prediction proved to be true, it might all be over in just a matter of days.
The very thought did allow him to breathe a little more freely, but it was not a forgone conclusion and wouldn't be whilst the Dark Lord continued to draw breath of his own.
Could Potter truly defeat him?
Draco didn't know, but somehow, he'd always found a way to survive what most deemed to be impossible; the killing curse, the Triwizard Tournament, and Merlin knew what else he'd faced throughout his life.
Regardless, the war now seemed to be in favour of those opposing the Dark Lord, and Draco could almost envision a future ahead of him, one that would not see him killed before his time.
"He'll do it," he murmured encouragingly. "Potter will beat him."
His mother was taken aback by the statement, but she nodded.
"I do hope so, Draco," she said sincerely.
(Break)
"I will not endorse him," Harry said firmly.
Amelia nodded her understanding.
"I would not expect you to," she sighed. "Rufus has been placed on indefinite leave pending a full investigation. We both know what he did, so his termination will merely be a formality. For what it is worth…"
"Do not make any excuses for him," Harry interjected. "He did what he did for little more than glory. I don't doubt that he cares, but his motivation was bullshit, and what he did could've cost us the entire war."
"I know," Amelia murmured tiredly.
"Are you going to stand?"
"I don't think I have much of a choice. No one else will do it. They will be too scared."
"I could probably convince Sirius to do it," Harry said thoughtfully.
"I will pretend I didn't hear that," Amelia grumbled, "but yes, I will put my name forward."
"And I will give you a ringing endorsement. Not that you need it. Anyone would be a damned fool to oppose you."
"Unfortunately, Potter, the world is full of damned fools."
"True," Hary conceded, "but every person entering the chambers will be subjected to testing for potions and being under the Imperius Curse. None of those marked will even arrive. It should be a smooth transition."
"I do hope so," Amelia replied as she looked towards the clock. "We should probably get to it. I don't want to leave any room for error with this, Potter. I'll need you to be my eyes and ears in there."
Harry nodded his understanding.
"Then let's make it official," he urged.
(Break)
Morgana sipped on her coffee, grimacing at the bitter taste as it coated her tongue. She could not deny it helped stave off the tiredness plaguing her, but she would not pretend to enjoy the taste.
It was an odd drink, though not as odd as many of the other consumables she had sampled since being here.
She would miss some of them but couldn't wait to get back to a simpler fare.
"Another?" Sirius asked, holding up the pot of coffee when Morgana had drained her cup.
She grimaced at the thought and shook her head.
"No, thank you."
The man shrugged as he poured himself a cup, frowning sadly as he did so.
Grimmauld Place had been a flurry of activity since Amelia Bones had addressed magical Britain on the radio, with all here in high spirits.
Hermione, Ron, and Ginny had been ecstatic at the news that the Ministry had been retaking, and though Sirius had been pleased, he did not seem so now.
If anything, it was a bittersweet victory for the man, and Morgana felt sorry for him.
"You know, you could always come with us," she murmured.
His eyes lit up for a moment before he shook his head.
"No, I don't belong there," he sighed. "Besides, I couldn't leave Remus, and it is not as though Harry needs me anymore, if he ever did. He's a man now, with you, and you'll want to start a family."
"Sirius, you are family," Morgana pointed out.
He smiled brightly.
"I always will be," he said sincerely, "but this is my home, and I'd like to see it rebuilt, and like to enjoy it the way it should be. I like my modern comforts, and when I am a free man, maybe I can think of finding a wife for myself. My family is almost a thousand years old, and it should continue."
Morgana nodded her understanding.
Harry had been young, had lived a terrible existence before he'd arrived.
The same couldn't be said for Sirius, who was much older now, and had things worth being here for.
A part of Morgana had hoped he might decide to come with them, but she understood his reasons.
"He'll miss you."
"And I'll miss him," Sirius assured her, "but knowing he is alive and happy is more than enough for me. Things weren't how James and Lily intended, but I couldn't be prouder of him. Just…take care of him. Keep him happy. That's all I ask."
Morgana nodded as she offered the man a sad smile.
"Of course," she assured him.
Sirius reached across the table and gave her hand a squeeze.
It would undoubtedly be difficult for him to let go of Harry, but having spent years believing him to be dead and not knowing how such a thing had come to be, Sirius would take comfort and find peace knowing his godson was alive and well, even if he wasn't here.
"It's done," Harry declared as he entered the kitchen. "Bones was just named as the Minister of Magic."
"Good," Sirius declared as he stood and summoned a nearby bottle of Firewhiskey. "Then we should toast a celebration."
Harry readily agreed as his godfather poured each of them a measure.
"They're almost done," Morgana murmured. "The goblins. A day or so at most."
She'd not had time to inform him of the progress of the little creatures before they'd ventured to the Ministry, and with all the chaos that had ensued after, they'd managed to speak little.
"Then we will be ready," Harry replied, his expression darkening as he accepted a drink from Sirius.
"We will," Morgana assured him, draining her own before kissing her husband on the cheek. "I need to fetch Malfoy soon. He is as eager as the rest of us to see it over with."
Harry hummed.
He would never like the blond, and likely never even respect him, but he would not deny he was playing his part. Without him, they might not be so close to reaching Riddle and finally putting an end to the man.
It would happen sooner than most expected.
Morgana could feel it within herself, and as she peered out of the bedroom window, she nodded to herself.
Through the city lights, it was all but impossible to see mars above them, but it was there, burning brightly, warning all below of the war that raged on.
(Break)
It had been a rather taxing day.
Between taking back the Ministry and hosting the Wizengamot meeting, Albus was exhausted, but no less pleased with the results of the efforts of all involved.
For the most part.
Rufus's foolishness could've let to disaster, but fortunately, the situation had been salvaged in the favour of those reclaiming the Ministry, and though several had died during the skirmish, Albus knew it could've been much worse.
To his relief and gratitude, the gathering of the Wizengamot had been a resounding success, with no objections raised to Amelia assuming the position of Minister of Magic, and she'd immediately been sworn in.
Shortly after, she had taken her leave of the chambers to begin the rather monumental task before her of putting the country to rights; something that would not entirely be possible until Tom was no longer a threat to them.
Still, even when that came to pass, the wound he'd inflicted upon magical Britain would linger for generations to come, and the scars would never truly heal.
Albus only hoped that these days were not so easily forgotten that Britain would not find itself finding such difficult times again.
With Amelia Bones in charge, the immediate future at the very least, looked considerably brighter than the past years had been.
Nonetheless, the war was not over yet, so Albus would not look too far forward.
Doing so could prove to be foolish, though as a familiar patronus coalesced in front of him, he realised that perhaps the fighting would be concluded sooner than he'd anticipated.
"The goblins are close, Albus," the crow spoke ominously. "Be ready."
The headmaster nodded solemnly to himself and released a deep breath.
He too was keen for the war to be done, but not so eager for the inevitable violence that would lead to the desired peace. Albus had grown tired of violence decades ago, and the mere thought of some peaceful years seemed too good to be true.
Still, he could hope for such; hope that Tom's demise would indeed bring a time of peace for Britain to recover.
(Break)
Once more, he found himself at the mercy of the goblins, though this time, he was not alone, something Draco was most grateful for. He got the impression the nasty little creatures did not like him much, but then again, they probably despised all humans, now more than ever after what had happened at Gringotts.
Nonetheless, he'd not been harmed whilst assisting them, well, as much assistance as he had given them in the form of his blood and magic. Other than providing them, Draco had spent the entire time both blind and deaf to the world around him as the goblins wanted to preserve the secrets to their magic.
Not that they would be successful.
With Potter's wife continuing to watch over them, nothing they did would remain so, and despite accepting he would be here another night, Draco was surprised to find his odd headgear removed much sooner than he'd anticipated.
Frowning as he realised it was still dark, he looked questioningly towards the goblin before him.
"We have found it," the creature declared, baring his teeth malevolently. "Your services are no longer required, Lord Malfoy. We will send for Mr Potter ourselves before we complete the breach."
He said nothing else as he turned to consult with the others, and Draco took his cue to leave, happy to do so and finally find his time with the goblins at an end.
Activating his portkey, he arrived outside the gates of Hogwarts where a sober, Potter's wife reverted back to her human form.
"You did well, Draco," she praised sombrely. "Perhaps when you wake, the war will be over."
"You're going after him now?"
The woman nodded.
"There is no reason to delay the inevitable."
She vanished without another word, and Draco entered the grounds to the school already knowing he would get no rest tonight. No, instead, he knew he would be sitting by the fire in the rooms he shared with his mother, listening intently to the wireless for any news that would undoubtedly be shared.
He was nervous for what was to come.
If the Dark Lord killed Potter, there was no hope for him nor for the rest of the country.
There was no other who could oppose the man, and though Draco could not quite believe it himself, he was hoping and praying that Harry Potter, his former foe, would triumph.
(Break)
"There's not much in the one," Hermione commented, pulling Harry's focus away from the book he was perusing. "The better ones are there, and the most unpleasant in a stack on that shelf," she added, nodding towards the one furthest away from them.
Harry nodded appreciatively and began sorting through the pile.
"You won't be able to use the magic in them."
"Why not?"
"Because it is the Black family magic," Hermione explained.
"Harry won't have any issues using it," Sirius interjected as he entered the library. "His grandmother was a Black."
"She was?" Hermione asked.
Sirius nodded.
"Dorea Black married Charlus Potter, and had James, who in turn had Harry. You can keep those if you like. I'd rather they weren't in the house."
"I will," Harry mused aloud as he placed the collection of books into an empty trunk before shrinking and pocketing it.
He had several other trunks full of books and other things he and Morgana had accumulated since arriving.
"Did you know your grandmother was a Black?" Hermione pressed.
"Not until I saw it on the tapestry, and it's not as though it matters. Most of the purebloods are related. Sirius is a cousin of sorts of mine."
Hermione could only shake her head in disbelief.
"Doesn't that mean you are related to Malfoy and even him?"
Harry shrugged.
"Probably."
"More than likely," Sirius added with a frown. "Considering Draco is my cousin's son, definitely him."
"It's quite disturbing when you think of it," Hermione sighed.
"Then don't," Sirius urged. "We all have those things we don't want to be think about," he added sadly.
Harry shot him a look of sympathy.
"You know, you could always come with us when we go back."
Sirius offered him a smile as he shook his head.
"I had this conversation with Morgana this morning," he explained. "She said the same thing as you, but my home is here. I'm all that Remus has, Harry, and if I die without having a child, that will be the end of my family. I won't pretend I thought much of any of the ones I knew, but I won't be the reason for it to go extinct. Besides, we will need people to rebuild the country, and I should take up my Lordship and do just that. My grandfather was a shit, but even he fought against Grindelwald."
"He did?" Hermione asked, surprised by the revelation.
Sirius nodded somewhat proudly.
"Not all of us have been terrible," he said with a shrug. "When my name is cleared, I'd like to begin rebuilding our reputation. Often, a Black has been the difference between war and peace in Britain. It's time I accepted my responsibilities to our legacy."
Harry was clearly taken aback by the man before him, but he nodded his approval.
"You should," he agreed.
Sirius returned the gesture, though his was filled with a sense of sadness.
"That doesn't mean I won't miss you, Harry, or that I might even regret not accepting your offer one day, but it feels like the right thing to do."
"I know," Harry murmured. "Maybe in another life, things would've been different, but I have no regrets. Everything that happened led me to where I am now, and even when you managed to break out of Azkaban, you only did it to look out for me."
"And kill Peter."
Harry snorted amusedly.
"And kill the rat," he agreed, turning towards the door as Morgana entered, frowning at his wife curiously.
"It's time," she declared simply.
Harry's expression immediately darkened as he nodded before sending off a plethora of patronuses.
"Now?" Sirius asked. "How?"
"We had some help," Harry answered cryptically, "but yes, now."
"I'll wait for the others in the kitchen," Sirius decided, suddenly looking to be rather concerned.
"What is happening?" Hermione asked.
"We finally have him cornered," Harry explained. "Riddle will die tonight."
He left the room and Hermione could only swallow deeply.
If what he said was true, the war might be over in just a matter of hours; a notion that filled her with a mixture of nervousness and excitement.
If the war was to conclude, then it meant that Harry would be fighting Voldemort, and one of them would die tonight.
Hurrying from the room, she rushed to find Ron, Ginny, and the twins to explain what was happening, whilst trying to come to terms with it herself.
(Break)
He could only scowl as he pondered the events of the war since the night Potter had returned. Despite suffering a considerable setback, and others, the Dark Lord had managed to seize and advantage, had taken the Ministry of Magic for himself, and his efforts had been mostly unimpeded in the months that followed.
Now, however, as he listened to the address given by Amelia Bones announcing the success of the Ministry to reclaim their building, he could only lament on better days.
The first war had been a resounding success until that fateful Halloween night.
The Ministry and Dumbledore's Order were scrambling to even fight back during the nightly attacks of the Death Eaters. Many prominent men and women that had opposed had been killed, and the Dark Lord was on the brink of victory.
Such had not been.
His own hubris had seen him become too arrogant, too eager to fulfil the prophecy, resulting in a disastrous setback.
The intervening years had seen cling to something resembling an existence, but it wasn't until Wormtail had found him that he'd begun his ascent, as keen as ever to take Britain for himself.
All had been well until Potter had returned, and the Dark Lord could feel fate pulling them ever closer together.
His nostrils flared at the thought of the man, and as the voice of Amelia Bones, the newly elected Minister of Magic sounded from the wireless once more, he knew that if he was to win, he needed to kill Potter sooner rather than later.
He had already proven that no other could hope to stand against him, that he was superior to them all, and yet, the fools still clung onto that slither hope that Potter would emerge the victor in a duel between the two.
He would not.
Thus far, they had not fought on even footing, but that no longer mattered.
When they did, the Dark Lord would be ready, and Potter would die, once more leaving Britain ripe for the taking.
"There is no word from Augustus," Barty informed him as he entered the parlour.
"Because he is dead," the Dark Lord murmured unhappily. "How, I do not know, but he was one of the very first I marked, and I feel nothing of him."
"And Wormtail?"
The Dark Lord shook his head.
"Nothing of him, but there never was a strong connection."
"So that means he might…"
The Dark Lord held up a hand to silence the man as he felt a rather unnerving disturbance, a shift in the magic surrounding the manor.
Frowning confusedly, he drew his wand, only to pause on his way to the window as powerful explosion shook the house.
"He's here," he mused aloud.
"Who, my lord?"
He didn't know how Potter had found the manor, let alone managed to take control of the protections and shift them in his favour, but he could feel them now; oppressive, unyielding, and all but unbreakable whilst the man yet lived.
He must've been working on this for days, perhaps weeks, and the Dark Lord, much to his consternation, had sensed nothing.
"Potter," he murmured as another explosion sounded, followed by a screams of his followers who had fallen victim to the ambush.
"Should we not leave, my lord?"
Lord Voldemort shook his head.
"No, Barty," he decided. "If it is a fight Potter wants, then that is what he shall have. When he is dead, there is no hope for them. They will learn that this night. Take Nagini and protect her at all costs. She will show you what to do if the worst comes to pass."
With a deep frown marring his features, he blasted the door open with a flick of his wand, revelling in the power he wielded.
Now, he would see what fate had in store for him.
He did not relish the thought of losing his body again, but he still had Nagini, and he would ensure that, no matter what, Potter would perish, even if he himself had to suffer to see it done.
(Break)
He had made no promises that Malfoy Manor would still be standing, and knowing that Riddle was within home, Harry saw no reason not to do what was necessary to draw the man out.
The combined efforts of the Aurors had already seen the walls breached, and the dozens of followers of the Dark Lord spilled out into the grounds in a bid to avoid being crushed beneath the crumbling brickwork.
Not that doing so would be any benefit unless they could muster some hasty, effective defences.
With the house surrounded by the members of the Order of the Phoenix and every available Auror, there was little hope for any to escape.
For Harry's part, he was floating above the unfolding battle atop his broom, watching and waiting for the inevitable arrival of Voldemort.
With the protections in place, the man simply could not flee magically.
Any portkey would be rebuffed, and he could not apparate away.
The protections would need to be meticulously undone, something he would not have time for before he was interrupted.
In truth, Harry could not quite believe that this moment had finally come, and as Morgana gave him an encouraging squeeze from where she was seated behind him, he knew his wife was worried.
Oddly, Harry wasn't.
He'd known for years that this moment would come, had spent many more in fear of the man that had murdered his parents, but now, he could not wait, and positively twitched in anticipation of finally being rid of Tom Riddle.
"There!" Morgana exclaimed. "What is that?"
Harry squinted in the direction she was pointing and saw a disturbance amongst the trees.
"It's not Tom," he murmured, "but someone is down there."
The Dark Lord was still within the house.
Harry could feel the man's presence only a short distance away. Whoever was trying to flee had found a gap in the defences to slip through, or perhaps a hidden exit out of the manor.
"I will take care of it," Morgana declared, leaping off the broom and turning into a bird as she did so.
For Harry's part, he remained where he was, watching and waiting for Riddle to emerge despite his own instinct to throw himself into the fray.
It was not worth it, not until he was needed.
He wanted to be fresh when facing the Dark Lord and not present the opportunity for the man to sneak up on him.
No, for now, he would need to wait patiently, as difficult as he found it, until the time was right to enter the battle.
(Break)
Although the scene itself couldn't be any more different, what unfolded around Albus reminded him of his brief stint on the continent during the mid 1940s, and it was something he could've done without for as long as he lived.
The screams and scents of battled assaulted his senses, and though he would rather be anywhere else but here, he fought on, subduing any that came across his path as best he could.
The first war with Voldemort had seldom since such battles.
The Death Eaters had never been cornered in such a way, and it showed in how they failed to act as cohesively as the gathered Aurors and members of the Order.
It would only be a matter of time before they were captured or even killed, but that, unfortunately would not be the end of the violence.
Both Harry and Tom were nearby, and soon enough, they would clash with one another.
Albus shook his head at the thought as he fired a spell towards a particularly keen Death Eater, tying him up in his robes so that he couldn't move, only to grimace as his victim was sent skidding across the grass courtesy of a follow up from Sirius.
The man fell silent as the blood leaked liberally from the wound in his chest, and Albus could only hope the fighting amongst them would end.
Too many had already died, and throughout the decades, he had seen too many of the terrors of war.
Still, there were those that brought it upon them so willingly, and even relished in the chaos, death, and destruction it brought.
Not Albus, but he continued with his own efforts, waiting for the hostilities to end until Tom and Harry inevitably came together for what he hoped would be their final showdown.
More than this, he hoped to see Harry emerge as the victor.
If he did not, Britain would be all but lost to the Dark Lord he remembered as a mere, unpleasant boy he'd once hoped to deter from becoming what he did.
(Break)
He had always been rather unnerved by the presence of the Dark Lord's companion. Nagini was much smarter than any snake had the right to be, and had found him almost immediately after he'd managed to sneak out of the hidden passage through the kitchen of Malfoy Manor.
It had led him to some greenhouses only a short distance away from the trees, and Barty had not hesitated to take the path behind the Aurors, ignoring the temptation to engage them from the rear.
No, he had been given his task, and though he couldn't quite believe that they'd somehow been ambushed, he would do as his master had bid.
How far back the protections extended from the house, he didn't know, but he hurried on away from the manor with Nagini just ahead of him.
Barty could only pause as the snake unleashed a startled hiss, one of both shock and pain, and he balked at the sight of the enormous serpent having been impaled on a spike that shot from the ground.
She thrashed to and fro in protest, attempting to free herself, but to no avail, and Barty's eye widened as he felt the ground beneath his own feet disturbed.
Fortunately, he managed to avoid the spike that shot up from the ground, and as he turned to face his attacker, he frowned.
He had expected Potter to chase him down himself, but it was the woman that had accompanied the Dark Lord's foe that did so, bringing her wand to bear once more.
Immediately, Barty found himself on the defensive, dodging and shielding a variety of curses sent his way, but before he could muster his own offence, the woman vanished, exploding in what appeared to be a burst of small, black, winged creatures.
All that could be. Heard over the din of the battle in the distance was Nagini's continued protests, but Barty remained where he was, a deeply unsettling feeling having settled within him.
He screamed as a bolt of brilliant white light suddenly hurtled towards him, and threw himself to the ground to avoid, though doing so only resulted in further problems.
Quickly, he was seized by the very grass itself as it took hold of his wrists and feet.
Although Barty attempted to fight them off, it was evident he could not, and he found himself bereft of his wand only a moment later, peering into the grey eyes of the woman.
"Do you hear that?" she whispered. "That is the sound of your master meeting his end."
Barty flinched as the ground trembled, and the woman merely smiled at him.
"I'm sure he will find you on the other side," she spoke again, the smile you gave only promising suffering and misery.
Still, she did not kill him, not yet at least, and shifted her attention to Nagini, giggling as the snake lunged at her, and tutting disapprovingly.
"Don't worry, little creature," she soothed. "You will be with him too."
With a wave of her wand, Nagini fell limp, and the woman placed her in a bag before shrinking and pocketing it.
"Ah, where are my manners?" she sighed before levelling her wand at Barty once more.
The last thing he saw was the sickly-sweet smile before pain beyond pain tore through every fibre of his being, and Barty could only thrash helplessly as he died a slow, and miserable death.
(Break)
Tom had announced his arrival into battle rather spectacularly by blasting his way out of the crumbling remains of Malfoy Manor and glaring towards the gathered Aurors and members of the Order of the Phoenix.
Before he could unleash his fury upon them, however, Harry landed only a short distance away from the Dark Lord, holding his wand in one hand and sword in the other.
"Potter!" the man seethed.
Harry said nothing.
He had no words to share with Tom Riddle, his only intention being to rob the man of his life.
Whipping his wand upwards, he begun the altercation, firing a blasting curse towards the man, who conjured a shield to intercept it, frowning almost disappointedly that Harry had not taken his bait to engage him in a war of words.
The shield he conjured, though powerful, buckled, and Voldemort was pushed back several feet.
Not that the man was deterred.
He fired a plethora of his own spells; an rupturing curse, a tongue-shredding curse, and even a few varieties of cutting curses that would make for a rather unpleasant demise, though each was intercepted by Harry, who wasted no time.
He could not allow Riddle to seize any advantage, and with that in mind, he responded with his own spells, each as vicious and violent as those sent towards him.
Fortunately, no other attempted to intervene, evidently thinking better of doing so, and the magic of both flowed freely, uninhibited by those looking on.
Of course, such a rather tedious exchange between could not last, and it was Tom that demonstrated his creativity first by flicking his wand towards one of the onlooking Aurors, who's eyes burned a bright red before charging towards Harry in a blind rage.
Before any other could respond to the unexpected actions, Harry rendered him unconscious with a stunning spell, though his shift of focus almost cost him dearly.
He barely managed to avoid a large chunk of stone that had been banished towards him, only to realise it was merely a distraction.
His eyes widened as a fiery serpent lunged towards him, the heat it emitted as uncomfortable as the fate that awaited him were he to fail in curtailing it.
Fortunately for Harry, it was not the dreaded fiendfyre he faced, but still a dangerous spell to fall victim to.
With a wave of his wand, he managed to warp a considerable amount of displaced dirt around the neck of the snake as a collar of sorts, wrestling it to the ground whilst using his sword to block another flurry of spells, the last of which pulling the blade from his grip.
As defenceless as he immediately was, Harry turned into a crow and quickly took to the sky just as a rumble of thunder sounded, followed by a powerful blast of lightning.
At first, he thought that the sudden storm had been created by Riddle, but as he reverted back to his human form, he saw that the Dark Lord was jut as confused as himself, and by the time their eyes met, both were soaked by the rain.
Harry grinned as he summoned his sword back to his empty hand, undeterred by change in weather. If anything, it favoured him and his stare bored into Voldemort's as the man set the snake on him once again.
This time, however, Harry was prepared, and as he felt the approaching power of the storm begin to rage again, he captured the bolt of lightning as it flashed and dragged it towards the lunging serpent, casting a powerful shield over himself as it impacted against the flames.
Despite his best efforts, the resulting explosion sent him skidding across the mire, and as he stood again, an enormous crater had formed between him and Voldemort.
Through the haze of dirt and debris, he saw his foe struggling to his feet, and did not waste a moment in seizing an advantage.
Banishing clumps of dirt and smoking rocks towards Voldemort, Harry created his own snake and set it upon the Dark Lord; a perfect distraction.
In magic, they might just be even, but Harry was not merely a wizard.
For years, he had been put through his paces by Salazar, Godric, and even more so by those that had attempted to kill him throughout the various battles he'd found himself a part of.
As good as Riddle was, Harry knew it mattered only as much as he allowed it.
Harry was the epitome of a warrior in every conceivable way, and even as the. Man who'd murdered his parents raised his wand to do the same to him, he continued on his path, ducking below the jet of green light before thrusting forward with his sword.
The blade plunged into the Dark Lord's chest, so easily that the momentum saw Harry cheek to cheek with the man and able to see it protruding out of Riddle's back.
The man gasped in surprise, evidently not having expected such an attack.
"That was for my parents," Harry whispered callously. "Destroying your Horcruxes was for me."
He felt the warmth of Voldemort's blood spill over his shoulder from where it poured out of his mouth.
He attempted to speak, but no words were forthcoming, and he breathed his last shortly afterwards, his full weight collapsing onto Harry, who withdrew his blade and allowed Tom Riddle to fall face first onto the floor below.
Taking a moment to stare at the man's unmoving corpse, he felt a sense of relief that he had finally killed the Dark Lord, but it was short-lived.
Fate was not done with him yet, and as another streak of lightning crashed into the dirt only a dozen or so feet away, he approached the waiting Morgana, Albus, Sirius, and Amelia Bones who looked upon him in awe.
"Is he dead?" the Minister of Magic asked.
Harry released a deep breath.
"He is," Morgana answered offering Harry a knowing look. "He won't be coming back."
Bones sagged in relief and pushed her red hair out of her face.
"Then we should get this damned mess cleaned up," she sighed. "You'll be rewarded for this, Potter, more than you can ever imagine."
Harry shook his head as he glanced towards the sky before offering his godfather sad smile.
"I will not be here to see it," he murmured. "It is time for us to return home."
"Now?" Sirius asked sadly.
Harry nodded.
"Very soon, Sirius. The storm will not wait for us for long. The lady will be expecting us."